Personalias's Flash Fictions

Chapter 10
Playground Check

"Sweetie! Come here.”

You get off the spring pony and toddle over to Mommy sitting on the bench.  “Yes, Mommy?” you say.

“Let me check you.” She says it nicely enough, but you know it’s not a request.

She slips two fingers into the leg hole of your diaper.  “Sweetie, are you wet?” she asks.

“Yes ma’am.” You say.

“Do big kids go pee pee in their pants?”

You shake your head. “No ma’am”

“Why didn’t you come tell me?”

“I was playin’.”  This is only a half-truth.  It was easier not to think about what you’d done when you kept your mind and body otherwise occupied.

“That doesn’t sound very mature, does it?”

Again you shake your head. “No ma’am.”

“Turn around.”  She makes the little circular motion with her finger as if you don’t understand.

Looking out at the playground with all of the other “babies” playing, you shiver as you feel Mommy slide her finger into the back of your diaper and pull it back, getting look.

“Sweetie,” she says, “are you messy?”

You nod. “Yes ma’am.

“Do big kids go poopie in their pants?”

“No ma’am.”

“Why didn’t you come tell me?”

“I was pwaying.”  You swallow hard.  You hadn’t meant to say it like that!

“That doesn’t sound very mature, does it?”

“No ma’am.”

Hands on your shoulders she turns you around to face her. “ What happens to big kids who go pee-pee and poopie in their pants?”  Your avert your gaze to the mulchy ground beneath you, but her hand is on your chin, tilting it back up so that you have to look her in the eye.

What happens to big kids who go pee-pee and poopie in their pants?” she repeats.

You swallow again. “They get a...a…” You do your best to enunciate. “They get a spankin’.”  At least you didn’t drop the s this time.  Little victories.

“And what happens to babies who go pee-pee and poopie in their diapers?”

“They get a diaper change.”  Your cheeks feel thirty degrees warmer.

“That’s right.  Now, which one are you?”

You hate this part. You love this part. “A...a baby.”

“What was that?”

“I’m a baby…” you say.  “Change me?”

“Okay, sweetie,” Mommy coos.  “Let’s get you changed.”

Like a good baby, you take her hand to go to the big brick restroom by the playground.  There’s a changing station in there.  Mommy doesn’t budge.

“Ah-ah-ah,” she says.  “Mommy doesn’t have to go potty.”  She guides you down to the park bench where she was sitting. “We’ll do it here.”

Panic!  Embarrassment!  Pending humiliation!  “But Mommeeee!” you whine as your back hits the slatted wood.

Mommy’s not listening.  She’s already sliding your changing mat beneath you and fishing out a pack of wipes and a fresh diaper.  You turn your head to the side and see all of your little friends still playing on the playground.  They’ll see!  Everyone will see!

“Your diaper was clean when we got here,” she says.  “If you can go pee-pee and poopie in your diaper in front of your little friends, then you can get it changed in front of them too.” From the diaper bag she takes out a binkie and pops it into your mouth. End of discussion.

You do your best to block out the world, covering your eyes with your hands and sucking on your binkie.  But it’s very hard to ignore Mommy’s wiping down there. “Excuse me,” a very deep, masculine voice says. “I couldn’t help but hear what you were talking about with your baby.”

Mommy doesn't even pause from wiping you down. She’s done this so many times, her arms are practically on autopilot. “Just a little conditioning routine I worked out," she says.  "Good for training."

"Not potty training" the man says.

They both laugh.  You just hide your face.

You peek out from behind your hands.  Standing next to you is a Daddy and his little boy.  The little boy is sucking on a pacifier and does not seem happy to be here.  That makes two of you. “Do you do it every time?” the Daddy asks.

“Mind sharing some of those tricks?” he asks.  No regard for your modesty, the grown-ups start their conversation as Mommy finishes diapering you.  You stand up and give her a hug, yet another ingrained behavior that you can’t quite shake.

You wiggle your hips a little and feel the clean crispness of the new padding on your butt. A smile spreads out over your face.  You don’t want to like it, but you can’t help it.  You literally can’t help it.

Mommy gives you a pat on your fresh diaper and tells you go to play so that she can talk to the nice man.  The Daddy gives his boy a matching pat, sending you two off to play.

“Sorry in advance,” you say to the newcomer.

“About what?” he asks, pacifier still wedged between his lips like a cigar.

“About what my Mommy is gonna tell your Daddy,” you say.  “She’s really good.”  Really good.  Too good, in fact.  So good.

He spits out the pacifier.  “HE'S NOT MY DADDY!” he yells.  “I’ve never even worn this...this...THIS...” he gestures to his pantsless diapered state; just like you.    

You believe him.  You relate to him.  But he doesn't understand yet.  The grown-ups always win in the end.

“Sure sure,” you say, not wanting to get into an argument so close to the grown-ups.   If his daddy is anything like Mommy, this is about to be the new normal for him.  “Let’s go play in the jungle gym.”  

You toddle off, not looking back.  There's no point in looking back...